


Yes

by ProxyOne



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Dialogue Light, Fluff, Hannibal is a scared cannibal, I suppose?, Love Confessions, M/M, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, Will and Hannibal haven't been using their words, Will has had enough, Will would quite like to use his words now though, Will's subconscious keeps interrupting him, of a sort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-26
Updated: 2016-01-26
Packaged: 2018-05-16 07:57:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5820451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProxyOne/pseuds/ProxyOne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hannibal Lecter was scared.  For all his confidence, for all his ability to see right through everyone else he had ever come across, when it came to Will and his feelings for him, he was unsure, and he was terrified.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Yes

Three months, two weeks, four days.

That's how long it had been since the fall, since Will had thrown his and Hannibal's lives to the mercy of the Fates. The Fates had seen fit to let them live, even if they had required them to work for it. That first month especially, trying to run and heal and just _survive_ , had been hell. Worse than hell, because Will came so close to losing Hannibal. That torment constantly dangling above them, their very own Sword of Damocles. _Will's_ own Sword, anyway. He wasn't sure Hannibal was ever truly aware of how perilous their situation was, unconscious or delirious as he was most of that time.

Now though...now everything was much different. They had spent the last few weeks

_(five weeks, one day)_

settling into the town of Bonifacio in Corsica, and Will had been pleased to see the change the surroundings had made to Hannibal. To both of them, if he was being perfectly honest. Neither of them had left their house much, preferring instead to stay in just another of those safe houses Hannibal had hidden away across the world. They left this small piece of privacy and relative safety only for supplies, heading further into the town quickly and quietly. Or rather, Hannibal would go in. He found it the easiest to blend in with the locals, and his French was by far better than Will's was. Will was not upset by this in the slightest, preferring to stay away from the general populace for the time being.

No, Will's frustrations lay in entirely different directions.

One specific direction, if he was honest. And he was being honest with himself, painfully so. It was with _Hannibal_ that he wasn't.

He wasn't exactly sure _what_ he was expecting,

_(liar)_

but it was more than this. They co-existed. They got along cordially. But that spark of whatever it was

_(love_

_lust_

_desire)_

that had flared up between them, that night on the cliff, seemed to have vanished to almost nothingness, and Will didn't quite understand why. He knew Hannibal loved him, could see it in his eyes every time he looked at Will. He knew, finally, that he was just as much in love with Hannibal. But things were different now. Not awkward, not really, but not like they were. Like they had both become stuck in some endless cycle of walking on eggshells around each other, neither one sure how to proceed, until finally they gave up and just...stayed. Two planets in orbit with each other, both irresistibly drawn to one another yet doomed to never meet.

It was intolerable.

Will knew why Hannibal never made a move, _would_ never make a move. He didn't know why he didn't

_(coward)_

except that it was all new. But that wasn't it, not really.

Will sighed, rubbing his hands over his face, fingertips ghosting over the still tender scar tissue on his cheek. He had caught Hannibal scowling at it on more than one occasion before his face would return to its careful blankness when he noticed Will watching him. It was an indication of how perversely he now enjoyed what once he had claimed to despise that the sheer _possession_ on Hannibal's face caused his stomach to do flips, rather than making his skin crawl as once it would have. He wanted Hannibal to

_(take_

_claim_

_devour)_

mark him as his own, erase the Dragon's claim until there was nothing left of Will but _Hannibal._ Sometimes, at night, he wondered if that was healthy. He didn't care. Nothing about their relationship, in any of its phases, had ever been what could be called healthy. That didn't mean it didn't feel completely, hopelessly _right._ Especially now that they had worked through every problem they had. Except for this last one.

He idly wandered the house, waiting with growing impatience for Hannibal to return. The tension had been filling him from the moment Hannibal had closed the door, and Will felt that if he didn't do something about this wholly unsatisfactory situation between them soon, he was liable to do something stupid.

More stupid than running away with a known serial killer after throwing them both off a cliff, that was.

Finally, after an untold length of time,

_(one hour, seven minutes)_

the car pulled up to the house. Will threw the door open, watching as Hannibal lifted the bags from the car. Not many, not enough to justify the time taken, but Hannibal couldn't help but touch every piece of produce before he made a decision on what to buy. It was infuriating and Will wouldn't change it for the world.

He watched as Hannibal approached, arms loaded with bags of colour, one eyebrow cocked ever so slightly in question at the way Will just stood, motionless in the doorway. Will shifted to the side to allow Hannibal just enough room to squeeze by, but made no move to help. He closed his eyes and savoured the smell of Hannibal's cologne as the man slid past. He remained in the doorway, listening as Hannibal put the bags down in the kitchen and began unpacking them.

And that seemed to be it, really, for Will's last frayed threads of tolerance. He shut the door, not slamming it but taking no care to be gentle either, before stalking into the kitchen. He stood on the other side of the island from Hannibal, hands pressed firmly to the surface. He could feel the heat rising within him, felt sure that Hannibal must be able to feel its intensity. Hannibal did not stop his work, moving to and fro between bags, fridge and cupboards. Will watched, silent.

“Do you care to tell me what's wrong, Will?” Hannibal finally said, not raising his eyes or giving any other indication that he had noticed Will at all.

“You tell me,” Will answered, somewhat petulantly, he knew, but he couldn't help himself.

Hannibal sighed, putting the bunch of carrots he had no doubt spent half his time at the market agonising over into the fridge, before turning to face Will.

“Will.”

Just that one word, and all of Will's

_(fear_

_don't leave Hannibal don'tleaveplease)_

hesitancy left him.

“Are you in love with me?” he asked, in the same tone he normally used when asking what was for dinner. It wasn't lost on him that once upon a time, that would have been appropriate. He knew that Hannibal wouldn't kill him, not anymore. But he still wanted to hear it from the man himself. He watched as Hannibal's eyes widened, almost imperceptibly. Would have been unnoticeable to anyone else, but Will had more than enough experience reading Hannibal.

“What makes you ask that?” he responded, almost unconsciously picking up a towel that didn't need folding but folding it all the same. Will felt a flash of pride at ruffling Hannibal's calm, no matter how minutely.

“We can't keep this up, Hannibal. We can't keep being so careful around each other.”

“I wasn't aware that we were -”

“Stop.”

Will was surprised at how calm he sounded, given that he felt anything but. _Of course_ Hannibal wouldn't talk about his feelings. He never could read Will quite as well as Will could read him. Not when it came to things like this. His true nature he had seen immediately, but he couldn't do _this_. It came as something of a shock to Will:

Hannibal Lecter was _scared._ For all his confidence, for all his ability to see right through everyone else he had ever come across, when it came to Will and his feelings for him, he was unsure, and he was terrified.

Will laughed, just a soft thing, but Hannibal looked about as offended as Will had ever seen him.

“Just tell me, Hannibal. I already know the answer, but I want to hear it from you. I want to hear _your_ words saying it.”

“Bedelia told you.”

“Bedelia confirmed for me what I already knew.”

And still Hannibal said nothing, instead gazing thoughtfully at Will.

“Then there is no need for me -”

“ _Hannibal,_ ” Will interrupted. “If you trust me at all, if you ever did, you'll just answer the question.”

“Need I remind you that you threw us off a cliff, Will?”

“And need I remind you that you've done far worse to me, and that I am the one who got us here, who made sure you didn't die on me? We're past all that, aren't we?”

Hannibal looked down at his hands before lifting his head proudly, staring Will directly in the eyes as he spoke.

“Yes.”

“Yes what?”

“Yes we are past all of that. And yes, I am in love with you.”

It felt like all the air had been ripped from Will's lungs, and he was thankful for the island holding his weight already because otherwise he was sure he would have fallen down.

_Turns out there's a big difference between knowing, and being told,_ he thought.

“I appreciate that this makes you uncomfortable. You don't need to worry -”

And for the third time in one conversation, Will interrupted Hannibal.

“Stop. It doesn't make me uncomfortable.”

Hannibal's eyes narrowed briefly before widening again in guarded hope.

“Yes,” Will said softly. “Yes, I am in love with you too.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not exactly sure what this was trying to be, but it wanted to be written so here we go :P


End file.
